


stay in the present (shyan one-shot)

by addyleecastles



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Broken Bones, Bullying, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friendly oneshot, Friendship, Hurt Shane Madej, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Shane Madej, M/M, One Shot, Other, Reflection, Self-Harm, shyan if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 21:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14270091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addyleecastles/pseuds/addyleecastles
Summary: (SHYAN ONE-SHOT)In which Shane is not fucking okay and Ryan is there to help. Mind the Warnings before reading please.





	stay in the present (shyan one-shot)

**Author's Note:**

> lol sorry.
> 
> posted on my quotev but it wasn't doing too well so i decided to get an ao3 account and post it here too. Sorry for spelling mistakes.

 

When Shane Madej was fourteen years old, he got called "sloth-faced."

Shane was bullied for his odd looks and contradicting personality. He was made fun of for standing up for himself and then made fun of for not. He was hated just because he got taller and skinnier than the other kids who got taller and put on build. He got bullied, sometimes horribly, sometimes manageable, all throughout his last four years of highschool.

"Sloth-face" followed him wherever he went. The inside of a custodian closet or the bottom of a toilet bowl became familiarities. The corners of the bathroom stalls and the corners of the gym locker rooms had become his most hated place; you usually won't see Shane pressed into a corner of a room. A habit he's kept since the tenth grade; _if you're in a corner, they'll corner you_ _easy_. Trapped.

Shane wasn't one to be hugged too tight for too long, unless you're someone he trusts. Another habit; he knows people always have trick up their sleeves.

When he was in the eleventh grade, (and yes he believes it was a really stupid choice and that it only helped a little) he'd cut himself once or twice, and more often than not he hadn't even noticed he was doing it.

Whether it was sitting in class and knicking his fingers with scissors or the one time he accidentally stuck the palm of his hand with a thumbtack.

The palms of his hands and the skin around his fingers, some on the top of his arm, is covered with the occasional scar. The one time he meant to do it, at the top of his left arm, two very, very faded scars that trailed about two inches from the crook of his elbow to the quarter of his forearm. Those scars were seventeen years old and, even now, all these many years later, a memory he'd though he'd suppressed would pop up and basically clock him in the gut whenever he looked. The memories always sucked the air from him. Made him feel paranoid and scared. Like he was back in highschool, always looking over his shoulder.

He'd though he had suppressed most of his highschool memories and the one he hadn't had been about him running from people, from them, the bullies.

Tonight's been bad. It all started quite amazing, he'd been looking through old books that Ryan- _Oh, wonderful_ _Ryan-_ had given him as a playful joke, the book was seriously titled, "The Book To Convince Skeptic Non-Believers To Believe" with crazy spooky patters and a ghost on the front. He been flipping through it, mostly scoffing, sometimes laughing, when a sting of pain blossoms from the tip of his finger.

He looks at it, seeing a large piece of wood- too big to be a splinter now- in the  layers of his own skin. He realizes he had been scraping a bit hard at the wooden table at his house, and he had harmed himself in doing so.

Something in the back of his mind, something he had just been avoiding; trying not to listen to, was taking control. It's like he's in a trance. In a few moments he wouldn't believe he had just...

He watched the blood well up and drip down his finger. He watches it bead and begin to harden and- _he's remembering it, oh, god, no-_ he almost hears it as if it's _w_ _h_ _ispering_ in his ear

_"Sloth-face-_

_"Sloth-face,_ _sloth-face-_

_"What are we_

**_ 2 _ **

                  going to do with you, sloth-face?" Riess Tenthers, the biggest, meanest asshole in the whole fucking school. Shane is on his knees looking down at the ground. His arms and hands are limp in front of  him, palms slightly up. The ground is mucky and dirty, but it's the back of the school so it's to be expected.

Riess Tenthers is crouched down next to him, whispering in his ear, his breath tickling Shane's face. Shane keeps his eyes glued down, head hung low. One of Riess's goons, his name's Greg or something-

( _Craig_ _Sazinsky_ _\- god, Shane would_ never _forget; as if he could ever forget_ any _of their names_ )

-was digging through his backpack, destroying his stuff and stealing his homework. Riess's breath smelled like mint and to this day, Shane will have never eaten or smelled something minty without losing his last meal.

"What are we going to do with you, sloth-face?" Riess asked again, weaving his hands through Shane's hair that was in dire need of a hair cut and gripping it so _tightly_ it burned at his scalp. Shane couldn't help but let his eyes slip closed, to let this nightmare end. To let them beat him and leave. To get over with it quick.

"What to do, indeed." Riess grips harder, pulling a few strands out, and it was deathly quiet except the rustling of the others before he screams in Shane's ear, "YOU TAKIN' THIS LIKE A PUSSY? SUBMITTING? YOU'LL NEVER BE ANYTHING, YOU FUCKING UGLY SLOTH-FACED NOBODY!" Riess slams Shane back so he was laying down,  leaning over him and sitting on his stomach. Shane's ears were ringing, his arms were trapped under Riess's bulking weight. Shane whines lightly in pain, struggling, felling claustrophobic.

Both of Riess's hands were tightly holding into Shane's hair, and he picks his head up before slamming it down twice- _hard_ on the concrete and asphalt ground.

Shane saw stars. He saw white spot in his vision, black spots. Riess screams at him,

"NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE A SLOTH-FACED LANKY KID! YOU WILL END UP _ALONE_ LIKE _ALL OF YOUR KIND DO_."

Craig Sazinsky - and the rest of them, Florence Narricks, Dominic Harwood, and William Rowe, they all surrounded Shane and Riess and laughed, they laughed and laughed and _laughed_ , and then the crazy idea that maybe Shane would like to eat fucking rocks popped up from nowhere. He remembers the strike of dread; like railroad spikes being hammered into place. They each start taking turns shoveling rocks and dirt into Shane's face, rubbing them over his face and into his mouth and nose. Dirt gets in his eyes. He struggles harder, and they all _laugh_ at him, screaming "SLOTH-FACED SLOTH-FACED SLOTH-FACED!

Shane screams, choking on the rocks. Riess rears his fists back, punching him in the face, the rocks in his mouth cutting up the inside of his cheeks. Blood wells up in his mouth, and he spits, red running down the sides of his lips. A second fist comes, and Shane chokes, blood spewed up on his face. A third punch has him gasping and a loud _crunch_ in his nose.

Shane is freaking out; he feels trapped, he feels pain, he wants it to be over. So he screams, struggles as hard as he can, and finally, finally- he breaks free and-

** _3_ **

"Shane, hey, hey buddy I've got you, okay? Hey Shane, it's okay..."

Shane focuses again and he's laying on the floor, his arms stinging and the cent of blood in the air. He looks up, and Ryan- _actual fucking_ _Ryan, oh god-_ is sitting against the wall with Shane's back on his lap. He's holding Shane's hands in his own, getting... _blood_ on them.

Underneath Shane's fingernails is dried redness, slightly brown, and his arms are bleeding, and Ryan is still shushing him softly, holding his hands tightly, resting his cheek against Shane's hair.

Suddenly it was too much and Shane couldn't help it.

He starts to cry, his chest and shoulders trembling as he tries to keep the sounds in. The first sob escapes his throat, bubbling up and sounding like the a whine more than anything. The second sob comes out and then a third, and then Shane is really crying. Ryan hugs him tight, and Shane let's him, because he trusts Ryan, he really does. He feels like he trusted Ryan the moment he met him for _BuzzFeed Unsolved._

He cries till his chest and throat hurts. He cries till his eyes burn. He cries till he can't anymore.

Ryan is still with him, rocking him comfortably, and Shane hasn't been held like this since the fifth grade, when a couple kids called him a mean name and his mom comforted him.

After awhile, Shane is just shaking, his arms, covered in scratches and dried blood. Ryan's hands are still in his, keeping them warm.

"I'm sorry." Shane spoke, voice gravelly and broken.

"I don't mind, Shane. It's okay."

Shane shifts, looking up at him with dark red eyes and a tear-tracked face. He repeats himself, "I'm sorry." 

In Shane's eyes, pure shame and sadness is in them. Ryan's heart clenched, as if physically hurt by the look. Ryan insists that it was okay. He hugs Shane, the side of his face in the tall man's hair.

After about ten minutes of Shane apologizing again and again, Ryan assuring him that it was really okay, he didn't mind, and that it will be alright. So now, Ryan nudges Shane slightly, whispering, "Buddy... We gotta get you cleaned up now. So come on, let's get up."

Shane nodded dully, sitting up so Ryan can get up first.

With shaking legs, Shane moves his arms to get up, hissing slightly when his injuries stretch.

Ryan leads him to the bathroom getting  supplies to clean his wounds. Despite the wounds made by Shane's blunt fingernails, they bled a lot, and will probably become fresh little pink scars after they're done healing.

Shane kept his head down, hands and arms limp. His eyes slipped shut.

But the delicate touch of Ryan's hands on his face makes him snap his eyes open.

Ryan looks sad. Sad, Shane thinks, or disappointed?

Shane was about to apologize _again_ , when Ryan let's go of his face and hugs him around the waist, his own head on Shane's chest.

"Don't apologize, okay?" Ryan whispers, and Shane stands up a little taller. He nods even though Ryan can't see him.

As the finally make it to the bathroom, Shane sits on the edge of the bathtub while Ryan digs for Band-Aids and antiseptic.

Shane watches Ryan. How did he end up here? In the house? Why is he here?

"Why are you here?"

Shane realizes the question seems a little rude, he back tracks, trying to reword, "I mean, how did you end up here? Did you need something or.... Something?"

"Nah, it's just... I had a feeling to come here."

Shane lifts an eyebrow, "Uh-huh?"

"I meant I just needed to come here and see if you were okay... it was just a weird feeling you needed help or something."

"Oh."

Ryan pulls out the antiseptic wipes and bandages and Band-Aids, and turns so he's sitting on the floor in front of Shane. He takes one of Shane's arms, and, he realizes, Shane is trembling slightly. Shivering.

"Do you... Wanna talk about it? I mean, I'm here to listen." Ryan says, eyes fleeting up and catching Shane's, but Shane looks away.

"No... Not.. not right now..."

"Of course. That okay." Ryan smiles at him gently, and it puts Shane at ease a bit.

-

An hour later, Ryan and Shane stayed up to watch Saturday Night Live- because it was on and it was a nice distraction from earlier. They both chuckled at the show, and both wheezed at some of the jokes on Weekly Update. When it was halfway through the show, Ryan yawned and Shane looked over to see him look a bit tired.

"You wanna stay over?" Shane asked, with _out_ thinking.

Ryan thought about it for a second, thinking it over before he shrugged and nodded, "Sure, if, uhm, it's alright."

Shane nodded too, "I might have a pair of clothes for you to wear.. uhm, yeah." Shane stood up, and so did Ryan, and both walked to Shane's room.

Shane's room wasn't that big, a king bed tucked in the middle of the wall because Shane had that thing with corners, and a dresser and a closet on the right wall. That was it, there were no pictures or decorations, except the books Ryan had given Shane in the past stacked neatly with care on top of the dresser.

Shane walked over to it, opening the drawer and pulling out a t shirt that was too small for him but probably perfect for Ryan, and a pair of sweatpants. He hands them to Ryan, giving him a small smile that was returned, and walking back down the hall to the bathroom.

Shane sat heavily on his bed, feeling deflated. The flashback memory earlier was pushed back into his brain and he shivers, not the kind of shivering from when Ryan was patching him up. He was shivering in a raging fear, and a dull anger that simmered right in his stomach. He hated those bullies of his past. His fear was over powering that anger, a reason he _really_ never went and stood up for himself. They would have tore him to shreds.

Ryan is back before he knows it, shirt fitting _perfectly_ and sweat pants hanging off his hips in a _perfect_ way that makes Shane's stomach feel... flippy. Was that a word to describe it? Is that even a word? Whatever, it was nice.

"Uhm, where will I sleep?"

"My bed's fine, if you want. There's the couch too if you wanted-"

"Your bed sounds more comfortable." Ryan said, and Shane pats the other side of the bed.

Ryan crawls into the bed and lays down under the covers, facing Shane. Ryan is curled up like a ball his hands curled into his neck. He exhales and relaxes.

It wasn't weird sharing a bed, because they've already done it before a couple times. Shane crawls in as well after turning off the light and closing the door, and shedding his jeans, he's just in boxers and a t shirt.

They lay there for about five minutes, when... Shane's starts to talk.

Quietly, of course, it's too quiet to actually be louder.

So he whispers, talking to Ryan, "I was bullied really, really badly in highschool."

He hears Ryan shift slightly, probably not expecting Shane to talk. He "humns" to let Shane know that yes, he is listening.

"There was these guys who... _hated_ me. Like, really actually hated me. Because I was skinny and ugly and I talked back. I learned quick not to talk back..."

Ryan moves a bit closer to Shane, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him.

"The leader's name was Ri.... Riess. Riess Tenthers. His gang was Craig Sazinsky, Florence Narricks, Dominic Harwood, and William Rowe...." Shane takes a deep breath to calm himself before continuing just as quiet as before,

"...They'd fucking _beat_ me. They once beat me so badly I was in the hospital for a whole three months. They'd make fun of me, call me names, called me..."

_Sloth-face._

"sloth-faced." Ryan whispered, and Shane jerks like he's been punched. "I-im sorry I shouldn't have said-"

"No, it's.. it's okay. Please don't... Dont _ever_ say that again..." Shane sounds like he's pleading, and he breathes a little heavily. Shane then says quietly, "How did you know that name?"

Ryan answers just as quiet, "When I first came to your house I heard you screaming, so I rushed in and you were crying and saying that name. I'm sorry I said it."

Shane settles back down, right next to Ryan again, but maybe a little closer. Shane takes a deep breath, soft and long. He starts talking again

"There was one time... One time in the ninth grade they caught me and dragged me behind the school. They destroyed my stuff. They shoved rocks into my face, in my nose and my mouth, and in my eyes.

Riess had punched me, and my mouth full of rocks broke most of my teeth and cut up my cheeks real bad. Scratched up my eyes and was blind for a week. They broke my nose and that was the three months I was in the hospital. I told them that I was mugged in some ally and I didn't have any idea who it was. I should have told... I should have told..."

Ryan was really close to Shane right now. His arms lifted around Shane's middle and he

held-hugged the man. Shane let himself be held again, because it was nice. He felt at peace and he was glad it was Ryan he was sharing this with. He trusts Ryan.

"In the tenth grade they broke three of my ribs, and six of my fingers. They'd beat me almost daily. One of my ribs hadn't healed right because I didn't go to the hospital for it. I kept it a secret. And right here," Shane takes Ryan's warm hand and moves it so he can feel the slightly raised skin from the wrongly-healed broken bone. The right side of his ribcage. Ryan's hand was gentle and soft, and Shane suppresses the urge to shiver. He felt his skin go tingly where Ryan touched him. Ryan caresses the skin slightly, thumb gliding over the break.

He trusts Ryan.

"In the eleventh grade, I'd h- _hurt_ myself without trying," Shane's eyes get that burn-before-the-tears feeling, he knows he going to end up crying again.

The thing is, Shane really wasn't one to cry in front of people like this. Or cry very much at all anymore. Shane was a private person on his life and normally he'd feel uncomfortable talking about himself to others. But this was different. This was Ryan. Not his mother or Sara or a therapist.

This was Ryan. He trusts Ryan.

"My life was a cocktail of medications and antidepressants. I lived my life in fear, always looked over my shoulder and always knew that... that many aren't to be trusted.. God, I'm sorry," Shane says, tears welling in his eyes. They spill, and roll down the side of his face into the pillow he's laying on. He feels like curling up and staying there.

Shane feels Ryan move closer to him so that their chests are almost touching. He feels Ryan pull him close so now they are. 

Shane doesn't make a noise, just curls in against Ryan like he's a security blanket and, in a way, he is. Ryan grounds Shane. 

If Shane was talking to a therapist he would be prone to a flashback. Ryan has kept him here, let him talk, comforted him. Ryan pulled Shane out of the past, cleaned him up when he'd scratched his arms, stayed with him to make sure he was alright. He keeps Shane present and _o k a y._

Shane whispers, so quiet Ryan only just makes out the words, "Senior year was probably... The absolute worst year of my life." Shane's voice is thick with emotion; disgust and an intense shyness, the-almost-panic-bordering-on-hysteria. 

"Senior year I tried to... Tried to... End my.. myself. I almost made it, I was there at the stupid gas station bathroom. That's where it would have happened, a fucking gas station bathroom in the middle of nowhere. I was there, I was going to shoot. I was going to... To.. shoot..." Shane is shaking. Ryan's hands are rubbing circles onto his back and ribcage, soft and warm, no callouses. Shane feels himself relax enough to keep talking.

"...I was going to shoot myself. I did it because... Riess and William, the two were like brothers. They were sick in the fucking head, too. They decided that... " Shane doesn't know if he can get the words out. He's never spoken a word about this, not a single word. It's been a closely guarded secret for for almost seventeen years now. He doesn't know if he's ready, even now.

But Ryan's soft voice, a soft "It's okay, Shane." And more of his warm and tingly touches remind him to breathe and that he's got this.

"Riess and Will had cornered me in the guy's bathroom one day. I was.. already still healing from the last time they beat me, so I wasn't fast enough and couldn't get away. They shoved me to the ground a-and they touched... Touched m-m-e- on-n the last day as a 'graduation present'..." Shane felt the tears in his eyes  _again_ and the break in his voice. His heart rate picks up because this is the first time he's even said it out loud. This is the first time he admitted to  _himself_ that what happened had... actually happened. 

Shane shakes his head, trying to rid himself of these memories. He doesn't want to relive that. He wishes it never happened in the fucking first place. 

Shane tries to curl in on himself, but Ryan just hugs him, tightly. Shane has no choice but to accept it. This is Ryan. He trusts Ryan.

He trusts Ryan.

It was quiet. The night was soft, soft like Ryan's hands. Under the blankets, Shane's arms wrap around Ryan's middle, pulling the smaller male's chest into his face. The material of the shirt mixed with both their scents was sweet. Shane's eyes drift slightly, his breathing is settling, his tension filled shoulders relaxing. Shane breaths in, the smell of Ryan calming him. He has a headache, his mouth is kind of dry, and he's exhausted, but Ryan seems to take that kind of sense of terribleness from crying and turning it into something... not. He doesn't know if he has the words to explain it. Ryan turns it into something to not be ashamed about. He turns it into a thing that could be as normal as eating dinner. It was unusual. 

It's quiet. Ryan burries his face in Shane's hair, whispering the words that are so small but so, so genuine it makes Shane calm down completely,

"It's going to be alright, Shane. Stay in the present."

 

Shane trusts Ryan, and he believes him, too.


End file.
